Bears

Little Harbour, Nova Scotia 9/21/18 5:00 PM

This afternoon when I drove into my driveway, I saw a strange car in my yard. The couple standing next to it turned out to be George and Susan who were visiting the area and had stopped by to see my house where George had lived as a boy way back in the 70's with his parents a brother and two sisters.

I was happy to invite them in to see the house as it is today and have George answer some of my questions about its history. In the process, I got some of the answers I was looking for and one I wasn't which has given me some pause.

George told me that my massive big maple tree which mysteriously has both red and green leaves is actually two trees one red and one green planted by his mother so close together that you'd now swear they were one.  So now, at long last, I finally have the answer to this mystery.

We toured the house and I learned that the large fireplace was added after George lived here as well as the kitchen cabinets and wood paneling in one of the downstairs rooms.  His family added the little "secret" playroom upstairs hidden behind a corner for one of his sisters as well as the upstairs bathroom and the front bedroom which was his.

George's family came right after the first owners of the house, the Walls family for whom the nearby Walls Lake, the Walls pond across the road and the Walls brook which forms the Western boundary of my land are named.  There was a sawmill here powered by the brook as well as a stagecoach terminal both back in the day but before George's time here.

Fortunately, a couple of days ago, I had cut the path to the shore through the woods and tall grass and so I was able to invite them down to the shore with its spectacular view of the cove, the islands, and the lighthouse 3 miles out to sea.

We climbed up on my "Rock of Ages" and as we looked back at the forest's edge, George told me that a guy who lives in the nearby town of Lockeport who knows about these things said it was the best place for finding Indian artifacts.  I'll have to look him up and learn more about this.

George also told me that the "scat" (wild animal poop)_we saw on the Rock was from bears.  He recalled seeing them frequently when he lived here.  And although he said they weren't a problem for him, he was concerned about his small dog which as it turned out was smart enough to run back with its tail between its legs when it had a close encounter with the momma bear and her cubs.

While George and I stood on the Rock, Susan went back to their car to get her camera and when she came back she walked down the other path to the shore.  She reported large scat in the tall grass along the shore and a particularly large pressed down areas where one of the bears, the mother (since she told me the bear dads don't stick around) must have been bedding down at night.  There are a number of these pressed down spots on the seagrass at the shore which I had previously, but no longer, thought were beds for deer which I occasionally see on my property.

I've seen the scat in previous years but nothing like the amount this year.  A friend once saw a bear cross the road and walk into my property when she was driving by,  but I've never seen any.

Last year and this I have noticed the nearby haunting mournful moan of coyotes so I thought the scat might be from them.  But George and Susan say no,  it's from the bears.

I have a wooden bench which I put on my Rock of Ages and take down when I leave in the winter to save it from the winter storms.  And on a clear night, there is no better place to view the stars as you can see all the way to the horizon to the South and almost to the horizon in both East and West directions.  And best of all there is that rarest of things today:  no light pollution.  No man-made light at all other than the occasional blinking light from an airplane high up in the sky heading to Europe or the twinkling of the Gull Rock lighthouse far out to sea.

Sitting on this rock on a pitch black night my thoughts soar to the stars and galaxies light years away.  At the same time, I've also had dark thoughts about creatures lurking near at hand to disturb my reverie or even my very existence.

George said I could get some "bear spray" at the "corner" store a few miles away, but he said he wouldn't count on it.  Susan who grew up on a farm said bears don't like noise and suggested a whistle.  And maybe I can find the very loud air pressure horn I had on my sailboat and keep that handy.

When we came back through the path in the forest Susan said she didn't see any scat so that was nice to know.  After stargazing I should be OK walking back through the woods from the shore to my house.

That's something I've wondered about. At night the forest path seems to grow much longer as I walk back in the dark.

However, they did tell me that bears like apples and I have several trees in my yard.  The apples will soon be starting to fall now as autumn is upon us.  Susan says the bears smell the apples and so I wonder if they'll be visiting me nearer at hand.

In the middle of last night, I awoke to what sounded like someone rapping on my back door.  I don't think I dreamed this.  It happened two different times.  Could it be a bear?

A lot of thoughts are swirling in my head.  I'd like to get a picture of the bears.  I'd like to put my chair back up on the rock and view the stars as in previous years.

But first I think I need to learn more about these bears and how best we can coexist.

Flying Solo

SeaBrook, Lockeport, Nova Scotia. 10:30 AM,  9/10/18

I'm back following an interesting journey with Air Canada flights from Baltimore to Toronto, and thence to Halifax, Nova Scotia.

It's a beautiful morning back here deep in the country. Fall is in the air. The sky's crystal blue.  The wind-driven waves are gently rippling in the cove at my shore.  The sweet music of Ravel swirls in the background of my SunPorch "Observatory".

A small speck appears on the horizon.  Then, as I peer through my large tripod mounted binoculars, the "speck" morphs into a large fishing boat enduring heavy pounding from the sparkling blue Atlantic waves far out at sea.  It tosses and turns as it gamely pushes back to its home port in the nearby town of Lockeport.

Two hawks circle above my property.  One lands on his favorite spot high up at tree-top. He fluffs his feathers in the cool breeze then flies away.  But not before I capture him in this video.  Or perhaps I should say "her".  I'll ask my friend Joan, the Nova Scotia naturalist who will know and hopefully answer in the comment section below.

I slow down the video to get a better look at this bird in flight.  You can too. Click on the video.  Then with your mouse hover over the video and click on the square in the lower right-hand corner. Then click on the round toothy gear symbol just left of the word "YouTube". Next, click on the word "Speed" and. finally, click on "0.25".  Just do it.  Now.

The video slows down and you can review any part of it just by clicking the red line at the bottom.

When I do this, I see the "Hawk"  becomes, in fact,  an Eagle. Magnificent in flight!

Early last evening, when I arrived at SeaBrook,  I immediately refueled my Hummingbird feeder with pure sugar water.  The best instant fuel for these marvelous birds.  It gives them the quick energy needed to be able to flap their wings in rapid continuous motion enabling them to dart here and there. At speeds up to 49 miles per hour!

These days they are working extra hard eating all the bugs they can to fatten up for their long migration. First, they head down the Atlantic East Coast.  Then they fly non-stop across the long,  long 500 miles of the Gulf of Mexico to their final destination --Southern Mexico or Panama.

Amazingly, unlike most other birds, they fly solo.

I feel a kind of kinship with them as I fly or drive a similar migration path and schedule.  But, their's is far more ambitious both in time and distance.

When I left here 10 days ago I neglected to refuel their feeder.  This morning no Hummingbirds have appeared. At least so far.  Perhaps they grew tired of putting their long beaks into the bowl and coming up empty.  Hopefully, one will find it now replenished and tell the others and I can get a great video.

Or perhaps, they have already left for the winter.   I sure hope not.

So I listen for the"Humming" buzz that signals their approach.

I listen. I watch. And I wait.

Baltimore to Halifax

Pearson Airport, Toronto, Canada. 8pm, 9/8/18

I was surprised when he kneeled down next to me.   Nevertheless, I pointed to the bottle he held in his left hand in such a manner to appear that I knew the difference between the two offerings when, in fact, I did not.

Amazingly, I had been bumped up to first class and the steward was offering me a choice of wine.  On bended knee no less as I shook off the thought that I didn't belong here.

The seats were wide and comfortable and the flight was to be just over an hour.  A perfect way to start my return journey to SeaBrook, my country home in Nova Scotia.

And even better, I had with me, the perfect companion -John Le Carre, in his novel "Our Game". Which much to my amazement and delight I had never read. Not even once.

I love to travel. Not totally sure why. I have some theories but I'll save those for another day. Although, this time, my love has been sorely tested.

Toronto is a huge busy airport. It took me 1 1/2 hours to get from the Baltimore arrival gate to the departure gate for Halifax.  You walk and walk and then stand unmovingly in line and then walk some more. Through seemingly endless lines of customs and security. And of course, you have to climb up the long escalator which is not moving while the down escalator flows smoothly.

Thank the Lord! I am young enough to do this with such grace and ease and nary a complaint.

And indeed all went well other than having to surrender my two organic apples to customs (I knew I was raising a red flag when I answered yes to the question about bringing in food) but I got to keep my carrots and muffins and nuts and a good thing that is as the gate attendant tells me there will be no meal on the next flight).

Enough trivia.  My most profound and revelatory thought here in Toronto?

How multicultural both travelers and staff are in this great airport, and how we all get along in spite of the effort and stress involved.  With an admirable degree of consideration and courtesy displayed amongst all us strangers.

Yes, this is Canada famous for politeness. So different from the fame its southern neighbor is garnering these days.

Maybe there's a lesson here for my angry, old, white countrymen south of the border who allow their leader to incite them to the benefit of no one but himself.   A lesson. no doubt, far easier to absorb for those of us who are fortunate to be able to explore beyond our borders and to see who and what's actually there.

Back in the "Hood"

Baltimore, September 1, 1918,  2:30PM

I'm back home in my neighborhood for a 10-day visit to catch up with local events here.

Unexpectedly several larger national and international events have also occurred.   One of which was Senator John McCain's memorial service which I watched this morning.  More about that in a bit.

Yesterday I went to Baltimore's Meyerhoff Symphony Hall and watched an exclusive BBC broadcast on the big screen of our great symphony orchestra's performance at the "BBC Proms" in London. Their main performance was Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony.

Shostakovich feared for his life being out of favor with Stalin for a previous creation.  Fortunately, this one was OK with the authorities even though it honestly rendered life in those perilous times. It got me thinking about how we have it so good in the West and how we take it so for granted.

Today after watching McCain's Memorial Service I headed downtown for lunch and found out why they were putting up the tents yesterday at our Symphony Hall.   I asked a participant what the occasion was for.  He told me it was the 10th anniversary of a local Indian (as in India) group.

I wished him and his family a good time and thought how nice it is we have such friendly and interesting and colorfully dressed different cultures in our city.

Fortunately, others feel the same way as reflected in this sign someone planted by a tree next to my house.    Except I can't show you the sign as just now I went out to take a picture of it and it is gone.  And I did not find it elsewhere in the neighborhood.

Why does this matter?  The U.S. is important to the world.  Our values matter.  We have the power to positively influence what happens elsewhere in the world.  We should care about others.  Not just ourselves.

We have had good leaders who stand up for our values and today that was on exhibit at McCain's Memorial Service.

With all (but one) of the Washington power elite in attendance, I would like to think that being so movingly reminded of what McCain and this country at its best has stood for, some of those who could make a difference will find the courage to do so.   As I headed out my door to go to lunch I ran into my neighbor and expressed this very thought.

To which he said "Good Luck". 

If you didn't see the memorial service you can watch it here.  Just click on the arrow on the video below.   If you don't have time for the full video look at the directions I've written below the video to see what IMHO are the most important parts to watch and how to access them.

I hope as you watch this service you may share my hope that we will experience "Good Luck" in the days ahead and get back to those values that as I've traveled in other countries have made me feel so lucky and proud to be able to say,   "I am an American".


To see just the most important parts IMHO click on the arrow (lower left-hand corner) to start the video then slide your cursor above the red timeline and click at the following times:
1:07 McCain's daughter Meghan
1:30 Former Senator Joe Lieberman
1:53 Former Secretary of StateHenry Kissinger
2:11 Former Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama